After the sound of thunder
by MissEclipse
Summary: Continuation of the episode "The sound of thunder". The team have returned from 'Nam, after accepting an assignment from General Fulbright. Unfortunately the plan doesn't quite come together as Fulbright is killed (shock, horror!) and Murdock takes a bullet in the shoulder. Hannibal keeps a watchful eye on Murdock as he recovers from his injury. Reviews welcome.
1. Chapter 1

[**_Disclaimer: I don't own anything except for the Box Set._**]

**Chapter 1: The calm before the storm**

[_Timeline: May 1986 – somewhere in the Los Angeles underground._]

General Fulbright getting killed and Murdock taking a bullet in the shoulder, hadn't been part of the plan. Having just rescued Fulbright from the Vietnamese Guard, he was shot in the back by the evil Colonel Sieu just as they reached the helicopter. He had died from his injury before Murdock had become airborne. On their departure, Hannibal had aimed his rifle at some oil drums, blowing them sky high. With a bit of luck, he had thought to himself, grimly, Sieu would also have gone up with them. It had created the diversion they needed to escape.

Despite his injury, the wounded captain had valiantly managed to fly them back to the Vietnam jungle, where they had left the plane to get back home. As they flew over the ocean, they had all made the decision to give the General a burial at sea.

There wouldn't be time to bury him in the jungle and they didn't want the Vietnamese Guard to get hold of him. And they couldn't bring his body back to America as it would have put them nicely in the frame for his murder. Plus they would have had one hell of a job explaining to the authorities about his mixed-raced daughter, Tia, whom he had fathered with her Vietnamese mother, Chin-Tu, twenty years ago.

The pilot flew down to a safe distance and they held their heads in respect as they watched the General's body disappear over the edge of the helicopter. He would have preferred it this way. He wouldn't want his impeccable war record to be blemished by the current events, which would have made him a war criminal in the United States. As far as they knew he had no immediate family who would miss him as he had dedicated himself to the army.

No doubt there would be awkward questions asked about his disappearance, but without any substantial evidence, it would be pretty hard to implement the A-Team. Perhaps one day the truth would emerge. But for now – and also for the safety of his daughter – this was the only way around the situation.

After the water burial had taken place, Murdock continued with the journey. He landed the helicopter in a clearing, a few klicks from where they had left the plane. Hannibal had checked his wound. Luckily, the bullet had gone straight through his right shoulder. Hannibal had raided the first aid kit, cleaning and padding up the injury as much as he could. He applied a dressing and then they started their trek back through the jungle to where they had left the plane.

It had taken well over a day for Murdock to fly back to LA. After landing the plane in an abandoned airfield, they took refuge in the beach house Face had scammed. Hannibal had contacted Dr Richter, asking for extended leave for Murdock, so they could fix him up and give him some time for recovery before going back to the VA. At first, Murdock had been pale and lethargic, really only going through the motions. But after a few days he was up on his feet and appeared to be back to his old self again – almost!

With things getting back to normal, the team decided that a night out was in order. Face had taken Tia on a spending spree and she wanted to go out and celebrate the beginning of her new life. The decision was made to go get something to eat.

Face and Tia returned to the Vette and the others made their way to the van. BA headed towards the driver's seat, but Murdock stopped Hannibal from getting into the passenger seat by asking him a question. It was then that Hannibal noticed a change in the Captain. His words had worried him, as had the perturbed look on his face.

"_Before we went back, did you think about it?"_

The chilling words had sent a shiver down Hannibal's spine.

"_I remembered it," _he had replied, solemnly. _"__But I didn't think about it."_

Murdock had half-nodded in acknowledgement, but Hannibal had seen the fretful, preoccupied look shrouding his eyes. At the restaurant, the pilot remained very quiet and kept rubbing his forehead, as if being plagued by unpleasant thoughts.

Eventually, Murdock made his excuses to leave the restaurant early, explaining that he would get a taxi back to the beach house. However, Hannibal had insisted on driving him back in the Vette, allowing Face, Tia and BA to stay at the restaurant. They could return in the van with BA later.

On returning to the house, Murdock had gone straight to his bedroom to lie down. Hannibal sat with him for a few minutes, making sure he was okay. The pilot looked relatively calm but tired. He persuaded Hannibal that he would be alright, so Hannibal decided to let him have some time on his own to rest.

Before leaving the room, he switched the TV on to the all-night cartoon channel. It was something he remembered Face always used to do, so that if Murdock woke up and he was on his own, there would be something going on in the background to distract him from any bad nightmares.

He then made his way to the living room, switched on the light and slumped into the armchair. He was worried not only about his Captain, but also about what they were going to do with Tia. She was now a war criminal not only in her own country, but also in America. He had reluctantly agreed that she could stay with them for the time being.

Face had done a good job on her fake ID papers and passport. Her only hope for the future would be if she was with folk of her own kind. Hannibal immediately thought of Sam Yeng. Despite the north/south divide, he was sure his friend would give her refuge, just as he had given refuge to 4 American soldiers back in Saigon. He might even give her a job in his restaurant, The Golden Pagoda. They could set her up in her own little apartment and he could keep an eye on her.

As the last of the daylight began to fade, Hannibal felt his drowsy eyelids closing shut. A few seconds later, he was snoring softly in his sleep.


	2. Chapter 2: Floodgates

**Chapter 2: Floodgates**

The sound of silence was almost deafening – if that was at all possible. It was unnaturally quiet. In fact, the only thing Murdock could hear was the sound of his heart thumping against his ribcage and the loud ticking of a clock. Somehow the ticking unnerved him, as he found himself counting out every second in his head in a robotic fashion. And it was dark. So dark he almost felt like he was suffocating under the weight of the blackness.

A sudden rush of blood to his head made him feel giddy and confused. He couldn't remember where he was and that was when the panic started to kick in. He gripped the sides of his bed with his hands as if he was trying to hold on to reality.

The pulsating whirl of the helicopter's rotor blades reverberated somewhere above him. He could feel the sting of the bullet invading his right shoulder as he prepared to lift-off. He could hear Face's concerned voice, asking him if he was okay. He remembered yelling back that they may not make it to Texarkana, but they'd make it back to the plane.

He had managed to airlift off the cliff to the sound of machine gun artillery thundering around them. The bird swayed from side to side as they dodged explosives and bullets. He had become aware that a large explosion had taken place behind him, which miraculously gave them the advantage they needed to get away.

After that, his mind had gone blank. Face and the others were gone. He was on his own. Had he made it back to the plane? Had he crashed? Was he still in Vietnam? Where were the others?

His breathing was now coming out in short, nervous pants. For the first time he realized he had woken up in a cold sweat. Had he been sleeping long? He still felt tired, but was immediately alert. His body had learned over the years to function efficiently with only a minimal amount of sleep.

Another devastating thought struck him. Had he fallen asleep on guard duty? Had there been an ambush? The soldier on guard was always under pressure not to fall asleep. After all, his buddies' lives would have been in his hands. Had he let them down? Somewhere in the background he could hear the steady tick-tock of that damned clock, getting louder and louder.

His survival instincts were beginning to take over as his stress level heightened. He knew he should be scouting the area, looking for ambush sites or possible machine gun hides. He should be lying low, so he didn't become a target. He could smell his own fear as he scanned his surroundings, hoping that the ground wouldn't swallow him up with every earth-shattering blast from the shelling.

But he couldn't see past the darkness. And worse than that he couldn't move. His body suddenly felt like a dead weight. A thought crept into his head as if a door had just been opened in his mind.

He had felt like this before. When he had been taken prisoner by the Viet Cong. They had strapped him down so he couldn't move and had stuffed a cloth in his mouth to suppress his screams. He could hear the Vietnamese voices as clear as day. They were laughing at him, their words full of mockery and derision. He shivered involuntarily, as he braced himself to endure the endless night of torture that was about to follow.

He tried to focus, to help control the pain when it started. But it was funny how he couldn't remember anything. He tried to remember special dates, like his birthday or the first memory he had of his mother. Strangely, the only thing he could remember with any clarity, was his service number.

As his emotions tumbled over into an abyss of obscurity, the sound of the ticking clock seemed to be counting down the last seconds of his life.

The hair-raising scream awoke Hannibal abruptly from his sleep. He jumped out of the armchair, wondering why it was so dark in the room. He could have sworn he left the light on. He stumbled over to the wall, crashing into the coffee table in the process. He cursed loudly as he fumbled around for the switch. He flicked it up and down several times, but the light didn't appear to be working. Darn it! There must have been a power cut.

The screams from Murdock's bedroom were now reaching fever pitch. Hannibal blindly made his way across the room towards the sideboard, where he managed to find a torch amongst the contents of the drawer. He switched it on and let out a huge sigh of relief when a shaft of white light radiated out into the room. He was angry at himself for falling asleep. But it had been a stressful week and exhaustion had caught up with him. He rushed towards the bedroom as quickly as he could.


	3. Chapter 3: Weathering the storm

**Chapter 3: Weathering the storm**

Hannibal came crashing through the bedroom door, not quite knowing what he was going to do. Face was usually the one who dealt with Murdock when he was having one of his purple wobble moments. But he deserved a night off. He had been at Murdock's bedside constantly since they had returned to the beach house and he needed time to relax.

As he shone the torch into the room, he saw Murdock thrashing around on the bed. His screams had now become muffled. He gasped in shock as he saw that Murdock was forcefully holding a pillow over his face, possibly re-living some horrific VC torture memory in his head.

Hannibal ran to the bed and tried to grab the pillow out of the pilot's hands. He was surprised by the strength in which Murdock was gripping on to the pillow. He had quite a job prising it away from him.

As the torch light shone on Murdock's face he immediately froze. The thrashing movements stopped but his face was a picture of complete terror and bewilderment. He suddenly lashed out at Hannibal, swearing and shouting at him in Vietnamese, as he tried to knock the torch out of his hand. Hannibal realized that the light was making the situation worse. Changing tactics, he made a beeline for the window and then switched the torch off.

He pulled back the curtains and opened the window. It was a dark night but the moon shone brightly into the room, filling it with a more soothing, natural light. In the distance he could hear the gentle whooshing sound of the waves as they trickled backwards and forwards over the sand.

Through the shadows, he could see Murdock, lying curled up in a ball on his bed. His body was moving up and down in involuntary spasms, gulping deep breaths of air into his lungs. Hannibal approached the bed with caution, careful not to get too close.

"Murdock," he said in a soft voice. "It's okay. You're not in Vietnam. You're at the beach house. Remember?"

Murdock didn't respond, but his breathing sounded much more under control. As Hannibal came a bit nearer he could see the Captain's eyes were wide open as he stared intently out of the window, focusing on the moon. It seemed to be bringing him some form of calmness and security.

Then, without warning, the power came back on. The room was flooded with light and the TV came back to life again. The sound of Woody Woodpecker's voice rang shrilly around the room with his customary "_That's all folks" _end line.

Murdock's attention switched to the TV. He uncurled his long limbs and turned over onto his back to face the television. The Merrie Melodies' theme tune started up and then an episode of Bugs Bunny came on. A couple of minutes into the show and Murdock had a half-smile on his face. Hannibal quietly sat down in the chair next to the bed, waiting patiently for him to regain his composure.

After the short cartoon finished, Murdock sat up and reached for the TV remote, turning down the volume. He tossed his legs over the side of the bed and turned to face Hannibal.

"Will the nightmares ever go away, Colonel?" he asked, in a small voice.

Hannibal leant forward in the chair and held Murdock firmly by his arms.

"I don't know, Captain," he replied honestly. "We all get them, but I guess we just deal with them differently. BA punches walls and Face becomes unemotionally withdrawn. And me? Well, I guess I'll be on the jazz for the rest of my life!"

Murdock chuckled at Hannibal's brief, but accurate summary, before becoming serious again.

"It's not just what the VC did." he continued, somberly. "It's what we did …. what I did …"

He left his sentence hanging in the air. Hannibal relaxed back in his chair again as he looked at the distraught pilot. The army had turned them into killing machines. You carried out your orders and didn't stop to think about the rights or wrongs of it until afterwards. You did it not only to keep yourself alive, but your buddies around you. There were no shades of grey or independent thought. It was with great sadness that Hannibal realized they lived in a society where you couldn't always teach young children to read or write, but you could teach them how to kill efficiently.

But it was worse for Murdock. He was ex-CIA. They were notoriously renowned for their unconventional tactics and methods. Murdock never spoke of his association with the Company, but Hannibal could only imagine some of the atrocities he had been asked to carry out.

"You know the gospel according to the Services, Murdock," he finally replied. "Never question an order until after you carry it out. Abnormal men seldom commit the barbarities of war. The tragedy is, that these horrors are committed by normal men in situations where the ebb and flow of everyday life have departed and been replaced by fear, anger, blood and death. I guess we just haven't had time to de-program ourselves, yet."

Murdock quickly brushed away the tears of frustration that had begun to fall.

"BA's right," he said, trying to hide his embarrassment. "I'm just a crazy fool!"

"Hey!" remarked Hannibal. "Who said soldiers don't cry?"

Murdock looked at the Colonel in surprise.

"You too?" he asked in a somewhat bemused voice."

Hannibal nodded back.

"You give an order and sometimes a comrade is killed. But you don't have time to feel emotion or grieve because you still have a duty to do. So your last memory of him is being zipped up in a body bag. And then he's gone. The tears come later, when you're full of guilt and you have to come to terms with the hopelessness of the situation."

Murdock found himself drawing some comfort from the Colonel's words. It helped to know that somebody else understood how he was feeling and could put his despair into some sort of perspective.

The sound of BA's van pulling up brought a hasty end to their conversation. The three occupants seemed in good spirits as they disembarked from the vehicle.

"You won't tell the others about this, will you?" said Murdock, anxiously. "I don't wanna spoil their evening."

Hannibal gave him a staunch salute as he got up from the chair.

"Scouts' honour!" he promised, his eyes glinting playfully at the pilot. "You sure you're gonna be okay?" he added in a more serious tone.

"No problemo!" responded Murdock, brightly. "I've got the best Roomy in the world."

It was Hannibal's turn to chuckle at Murdock's reference to Face. He knew that if Murdock so much as scratched his nose, he would be up and by his side in seconds. He gave Murdock an affectionate slap on the back as he took his leave.

"Thanks for the pep talk, Colonel," grinned back Murdock, his face full of gratitude and appreciation.

"You're welcome, son," replied Hannibal.

He turned the volume back up on the TV and then left the room. He closed the door and leant against it, taking time for some quiet contemplation.

He took a moment to marvel over Face's talent to instinctively know when a member of his team needed help. He guessed that came with the intimacy of sharing a foxhole with your buddies under fire. It was an experience you couldn't share with anyone else, be it your wife, girlfriend or any other normal person.

And then there was BA. The headstrong, burly Sergeant was as loyal as anyone Hannibal had ever know. He could be relied on to show great sensitively and kindness when the situation arose. He guessed that came from their days as PoWs in the Hanoi Hilton. He became their protector and guardian, often tending to their scars and wounds afflicted upon them by the guards.

Murdock was their lifeline to his own brand of comedy genius! His folly made them laugh and forget their troubles. They all owed him big time for the amount of times he had pulled them out from the clutches of the Yellow Peril.

Hannibal had thought long and hard about including him on this mission and Dr Richter had chewed him out when he found out where they had been! But he knew Murdock wouldn't want to be left behind. That would have hurt him more. He needed to know that he belonged with the team and that they could depend on him as much as he depended on them.

Hannibal dabbed at his eyes, that also had become wet with tears. He was pretty certain that no father in the world could have been more proud of their sons, as he was of his men at that precise moment. And he knew that he always would be.

**FINI**

[_Thank-you for reading. __I know it's an old cliché, but this self-confessed A-Team addict would love to hear what you thought. __So don't be shy, send me a reply!]_


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